


Another Time, In Another Place

by orphan_account



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Drinking, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Platonic Relationships, Smoking, but it can kinda be read as shippy if you close your eyes, homura and kyoko are purely platonic in this, nagisa is the dead one don't worry the other girls are alive, please don't expect it to be that great because i did it for that dumb college kid mood aesthetic, sorry nagisa :(, this story is literally an experiment done at 3 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 05:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20384281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: So, living in a city, working at some fast food chain, and being a college freshman dropout is fun.





	Another Time, In Another Place

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, ha ha ha ha aha, I used "McDonn's." Because I am a coward that doesn't know if using the real restaurant in this story will count as defamation. 
> 
> Ignore spelling and Grammar mistakes, it's 3 am.

So, she's sitting in the alleyway on some stone steps between the McDonn's she works at and a random clothing store she never bothered to learn the name of, resting for a while at the end of her shift, with her hat and apron stuffed between her stomach and her thighs, shuffling some stale fries straight from the box into her mouth.

And when she lowers the carton, she stops chewing her food, a fry or two sticking out of her mouth, though she's not surprised to see a magical girl standing at the entrance to the alley.

Dingy lamps reveal ridiculous long, red hair, frayed out like a hyena, and Homura keeps chewing, sucking in the fry, and she swallows her food.

Now, this particular magical girl has been on her ass all week.

Walking into her workplace, ordering the same burger and large fries. No drink, no sauces.

Since day one, she walks in during the least busy time of the day, while service is slow and most of the other employees are on break, so that she can immediately walk up to the counter, in her sloppy, patched up sweater and jean shorts and black crop-top that look like she's worn forever and sewed herself that probably violated some public decency laws or some shit, and get herself some food.

Looking angry about something, with her fiery eyes, that Homura probably will never understand, that she doesn't care to ask about.

And when Homura says the same total she said six times this past week, that magical girl shuffles around her pockets until she manages to scrounge up the exact amount of yen needed.

Being sure to hand her the coins with her left hand, every single time.

To which, Homura takes the money with her left hand as well, flashing an image of a purple diamond on her middle finger nail, because she doesn't want to get in trouble for wearing a ring or nail polish in a food establishment, even if she's not _actuall__y_ wearing nail polish.

And though each of those times her diamond appeared only for a couple of seconds, enough that no one should be able to notice, that magical girl _did_, every time. Staring at Homura as she prepares the food, and then she takes her food and leaves the restaurant, never sitting down. Just shoving the neatly wrapped burger in her sweater pocket and taking the fries off the tray.

And she looks as serious and tense as she had all week, hands hanging out of her jean pockets, harsh shadows on her cheeks when she walks forward into the light, stopping just on the outer-most ring, where the red of her irises can barely be seen, even with Homura's magically-enhanced eyes.

"You're not part of Tomoe Mami's crew, are you?" she asks, almost hesitating to say that name, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Homura has to hold back an eye roll and a snarl, but her voice unintentionally comes out hard. "Are you?"

That magical girl grins at her, because that seems like just the answer she was looking for, even if she looks maniacal doing it.

And maybe Homura would grin too, if she wasn't so exhausted from work--and jaded with anything magical-related.

"Sakura Kyoko," that girl introduces herself, just as she flashes into a red magical girl uniform, her weapon of choice, a lance or a spear, pointed directly at Homura. Her body lowers, like she's ready to lunge, both of her hands firmly gripping the weapon.

The name is familiar, but not overly so, and Homura stands up, dusting the back of her pants, transforming into her magical girl attire as well.

She flips her hair, now out of its ponytail, freely hanging down her back.

"Akemi Homura."

Homura ducks down and uses a magic-powered jump to reach the roof, and Kyoko follows soon after with a few even-timed jumps on the fire escapes, ricocheting off the walls, before coolly flipping onto the roof.

And it's as they're hopping over buildings away from civilians that Homura decides that she's not going to use her time-stop ability.

Maybe as a test of her own abilities, maybe to balance the odds.

For now, she tests Kyoko with some pistol shots. They're deflected with a twirl of her body, each bullet shot away with her spear.

It's actually amazing she trusts herself enough to do that, while still managing to focus on landing and jumping.

Once they reach dilapidated buildings and broken street lamps, Kyoko lunges at her.

Homura drops a grenade between them, watching the horror on Kyoko's face as she flicks it away with her spearhead.

Homura lifts her shield up as Kyoko watches it.

Which is a big fucking mistake on her part.

It wasn't a grenade, and she takes out a desert eagle when Kyoko cries out and stumbles back, covering her eyes with one hand, still carrying her spear in another.

Homura gets two shots on Kyoko's left arm before she snarls loudly, hand clutching at one eye, the free eye locking onto Homura, gripping her spear harder.

Even though Homura just shot at that arm.

Aggressive, has a temper problem.

Fuck.

She rushes forward before Homura can get another flash-bang out, and she catches whiff of cheap shampoo mixed with sweat—and she gets kicked in the back by another Kyoko?

She blinks, and Kyoko makes a move again.

And now she's _sure_ that she sees two Kyokos—maybe a third in her peripheral—for the splittest of seconds. It distracts her enough.

Homura gets kicked in the stomach, hard enough where she freezes time out of reflex, and she's on the floor on her hands and knees, gasping raggedly for air with a hand nursing and healing her stomach to the best of her ability, shoulders curling with each dry heave.

She blinks, feels the sting in her eyes from a mix of holding back tears and the dryness of wide-eyed shock.

She's gotten rusty.

She stands up, legs wobbly, still frozen in time, then full-body tackles Kyoko as she unpauses time, and they both give a grunt and short-lived shouts as they fall into an alley.

* * *

They walk back to the McDonn's.

Okay, well.

They limp back to the McDonn's.

Something about Homura's ribcage hurts, her left knee makes a cracking noise if she tries standing upright, and Kyoko's trying to heal her right wrist, keeping her left arm as still as possible, blood still smeared on her face.

She bashed Kyoko's nose with her shield. Kyoko kicked the side of her knee.

Then, her spear crossed against Homura's chest at one point—so fucking dangerously close to her scar that Homura dropped six pipe bombs out of reflex.

Reflex.

Neither of them felt like fighting after that.

It wasn't a very fun fight.

Homura's at the backdoor to the place, picking up her discarded apron and hat, giving Kyoko a quiet, "I'll be right back."

Kyoko noisily grunts as she sits down on the steps. "Aren't they gonna say something?"

Homura shrugs, trying to hide her limp as she walks back inside.

And her manager _does_ ask her why she came back, why she was still in uniform, to which Homura shrugs again, saying, "Something came up, but I forgot my jacket."

And when that doesn't _quite_ work for him, she explains, "I was going to leave it for tomorrow, but I forgot I put my apartment keys in there."

And when that _still_ doesn't work, she walks with him over to the employee lounge to her locker, unlocks it, and takes the keys from the pocket on the inside of her jean jacket, giving them a slightly condescending jingle.

"I clocked out hours ago," is all she really had to say to get him off her case, and he leaves, allowing Homura to take her clothes, lock her locker, and start unbuttoning her shirt on the way to the bathroom.

Taking off her dumb black khakis and stuffing them in a plastic bag, along with her apron and hat, she slips on the dark gray sweatpants she wore this morning instead, knowing that by the time she finishes work, no one will be around to judge her for it.

A plain black long sleeve. It's thick enough that she won't need to wear her jacket tonight, and she takes her keys and wallet from the jacket and shoves them in the pockets of her sweatpants, then takes her t-shirt and shoves it with the rest of her work clothes.

She can't believe she's doing this, but she wastes some magic on freezing time, making a quick cheeseburger and medium carton of fries, before unpausing time when she's back in the bathroom, walking back into the night with a yawn.

"Here," she says, startling Kyoko. Hands her the jacket, with the burger and fries. Drops the bag of work clothes on the top-most step, before it shifts off and hits the ground. Homura eyes it.

She'll pick it up later.

"Oh," Kyoko says, blinking at her, before reaching up. "Thanks."

She takes the jacket, throwing it over her shoulders, then takes the food, placing the burger on her lap, rummaging for something in her hoodie pocket.

She offers Homura a cigarette, which she takes.

"Thanks," she says, leaning down and firmly, shortly inhaling when Kyoko takes out a lighter and holds it up, putting it away to scarf down her burger.

Homura side-eyes her. Maybe she never sat inside because she eats like a savage.

She chooses to look off to the brick wall in front of them, bring her hand to hold the cigarette against her lips, closing her eyes, holding the smoke in her mouth and inhaling it.

Warm chills over her body, the physical feeling of smoke filling her lungs, a familiar buzz that numbs her brain and senses for a moment, how the scar on her chest feels like it's being ripped apart.

It makes Homura feel like shit.

She opens her eyes, looking down at Kyoko.

Who's watching her, just watching her, already finished with all her food, trash somehow gone from sight, before looking away, sighing, shaking her head.

"That's a bad habit to have," she says, and Homura thinks silently.

"You offered it."

"I didn't think you knew how to smoke."

"I was dumb in high school."

"And you're dumb now."

Homura chooses not to say anything as Kyoko lights her own cigarette, bringing it up to her lips, putting her hand down on top of her knee as she blows out her own puff of smoke.

They stay like that, sitting in the night, until Homura sighs, looking down at the cigarette she barely touched, more interested in the smoky tendrils that lift from it.

"We should go before I get in trouble, again."

Kyoko looks up, grinning in that way she does again, and Homura feigns a kick, to which Kyoko laughs at, shoving Homura's foot away.

"Yeah, you're probably right." She takes another drag from her cigarette, and it reminds Homura to take one as well.

It burns her throat this time, feeling her left eye cringe at the sensation, before sighing out a rough, fleeting cloud of smoke.

She flicks the rest of the cigarette into a stray puddle of garbage sludge, watching Kyoko do the same after another long drag of her own, standing up with a quick dusting on the back of her shorts.

She properly puts on the jacket, before looking at Homura... oddly. Solemnly.

"You sure you don't need this yourself?"

To which, Homura flips her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm fine."

The only place she can think of is her own apartment, and Kyoko follows along behind Homura out the alley, before stepping up next to Homura, the both of them making haste down the street.

Empty streets the further down away from McDonn's they go, with nothing but street lights and love hotels, with the occasional cat-call from smokers in stray apartment buildings.

It's once all the noise stops that Kyoko hunches in on herself, hands shoved in Homura's jacket pockets.

"I need help taking down Tomoe Mami," she mumbles gruffly, almost drowned out by their steps.

There's that name again. Homura remembers her, a distinct memory of:

_"That's the thinking of a bullied child."_

She stops herself from making a face.

Prick.

"Any reason why?" she asks back, just as lowly.

"You've noticed it, too, right? This town is a _breeding ground_ for witches."

Oh, yeah, she's noticed. She also notices how she always has to go over to Tokyo just to hunt for a grief seed, because at least that city is a free-for-all.

At least she's in better control of her emotions than when she was younger, so the trip isn't as often as her middle and high school years, but working up the mental energy to go once every two weeks when she has work every day is...

"I'd do it myself-" Kyoko continues harshly- "the only problem is she has those two fucking whores with her now."

Whores? Those two can barely be considered as such. She hardly remembers who they are.

Well.

That's actually a lie. She remembers Miki Sayaka and Kaname Madoka vividly from when she was in middle school. Then, things happened, Tomoe Mami got mad, and Homura was an outcast to them. That was, gosh, five years ago? Six years ago?

So, why describe them as whores—ah. A personal problem.

"I suppose I can help you," Homura mumbles.

"That's it?"

"But I need something from you, too."

"Fair."

And Kyoko's looking shifty-eyed as the buildings turn fancy, yet dark with old bricks.

She stops when Homura stops walking, in front of that condescending name plate.

_Akemi Homura_

"Damn," Kyoko mutters, "you live all the way out here?"

"I didn't realize you were a critic."

She barks out a laugh. "I guess I shouldn't be talking, then! I break into fancy hotel rooms and steal food!"

And Homura doesn't say anything, doesn't see the point in judging her. That's just how some magical girls are.

She doesn’t get why Kyoko admits something like that to her.

She opens the door and they walk in, and Homura turns on the light as they take off their shoes.

They walk into the main living room. A giant circular sofa that doesn't have any real function other than existing as slightly cushioned park bench.

Kyoko just sits down, before looking at her.

"You gotta shower?" Kyoko asks her, and Homura juts her chin to a hallway.

"First door on the right. Help yourself," she says.

"Nice." She looks back to Homura. "Got any clothes?"

Shit.

She forgot her work clothes.

Ah. Well.

"I'll get some for you."

"Thanks."

Kyoko walks to her bathroom, and Homura sighs, walking to her rather plain-looking bedroom without bothering to turn on the lights, mentally kicking herself for leaving her work clothes, hoping that Kyoko didn't catch on yet.

If she did, God, she hopes she at least tells Homura.

But enough about that. She grabs a random shirt and pants from her closet; a dark shirt, some dark sweatpants. They're loose enough that they should fit Kyoko whether they're too big or small.

Uh.

She throws in a sports bra and panties anyway. A pair of socks.

She knocks the bathroom door, leaves the stack of clothes right outside the door when Kyoko asks her to, giving her an, "All right."

And Kyoko finishes her shower surprisingly fast, because Homura barely felt the time go by, sitting and scrolling on her phone in her living room, when Kyoko strolls in.

"Got any food?"

Food. First a shower, then clothes, now food.

And Homura stands up and walks them to the kitchen.

She mostly only has instant ramen. Chips, some beer in the fridge, eggs that she bought yesterday because she can cook them with her ramen.

Sauces she can add to her ramen.

Green onions that she can add to her ramen.

Ramen that she has stockpiles upon stockpiles of, but never has the stomach to eat.

She makes herself some, though, because she figures it'd be rude to not eat with her guest.

And she really wants a beer, but she has to shower first.

Which she does quickly, right after giving Kyoko a pot to cook the ramen in.

They don't talk when they eat. Kyoko scarfs down more food, at least three packets of instant ramen, but at least she's not drinking much of Homura's alcohol.

Then, she'd be fucking pissed, even if it's the cheap stuff.

And she likes the buzz, where her eyes feel like they simultaneously can't focus on anything while also trying to focus on everything. Not enough to slur her words, but enough to make her feel cozy and tired and less of an idiot for leaving her work clothes in an alleyway.

They move to Homura's giant living room to plan.

There isn't much planning to do. Just avoid Tomoe Mami's ribbons, watch out for Kaname Madoka's arrows because they can explode upon impact sometimes, and don't underestimate Miki Sayaka's healing abilities.

"Sorry if this information isn't much help."

"Nah, this is all good stuff!" Kyoko claps a hand against Homura's back, and Homura jolts forward. She feels like it's something Kyoko isn't used to doing with other people.

Why are they sitting next to each other in the first place?

But, Kyoko continues anyway. "Anytime I tried spying on them, Kyubey—that rat—told them where I was."

They move to Homura's bedroom, and Kyoko takes the bed.

Homura rolls out a futon, but Kyoko just pats the space next to her.

"I actually almost got into a tussle with them, ya know. But I got away, eventually."

She rolls over to look at the ceiling. Homura's ceiling. On Homura's bed.

Okay.

She lays down next to her, looking at the ceiling as well.

Kyoko puts up a fist, shaking it comically.

"No thanks to that rat-bastard."

Homura doesn't see the need to say anything, but she smirks.

* * *

Neither of them can sleep, it seems, other than on-off shifts, moments where exhaustion randomly takes them.

But, they do eventually sleep, until mutually, silently agreeing to get up at around seven.

They eat whatever. Homura hardly thinks instant ramen is a breakfast food, but Kyoko's on her fifth serving, still going strong.

Homura lets her, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of lukewarm green tea, with Kyoko leaning against the counter so she can make herself something as fast as possible.

Just watching her eat. It's both disgusting and fantastic. She's almost envious someone can enjoy eating.

Her phone rings.

She notices the time.

She's late for work.

Whatever. She might not be alive after this.

She turns off her phone.

They leave after Kyoko's done eating, maybe because they both want this over with as soon as possible. Homura does, at least, and Kyoko turning quiet and subdued leads her to believe the same.

Really, it's almost stupidly easy to find all three of them, because Kyoko and her just follow the signs for a witch, and there they are, just finishing one off.

Neither group looks thrilled to see the other, at least. Kyoko seems pretty serious about this.

Miki Sayaka grew her hair out, it seems. Not by much, but enough. Her face looks sharper—not as sharp as her or Kyoko's, but some insomnia might fix that.

The sight of Kaname Madoka leaves something bitter in her chest, but that's not new. What's new is how she wears her hair in a ponytail, instead of two pigtails, and—honestly, she looks so pretty that Homura decides she's better off not looking at her at all.

Tomoe Mami. Still as bland and annoying as ever, with those obnoxious drilly-pigtails on the side of her head. Just looking at her makes Homura want to gag.

She's wearing makeup.

It's weird to Homura, seeing that they're all young adults, but Tomoe Mami looks the most put-together out of all of them, easily looking older than any of them by ten years.

What a fucking lie that is.

"Kyubey told us you've been meeting up with Akemi-san, Sakura-san."

Okay. Just pretend she isn't there then.

"Don't think you can hide anything from me in my territory."

She looks over to Homura, and Homura wants to bare her teeth at her.

She almost does.

But, God, she really hates that face. Those dumb, fucking drill-tails.

"I thought I told you," Tomoe Mami says slowly, "I didn't want to cross with you again, Akemi Homura."

Homura doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to.

The fact that she pulls out a pistol from her shield is enough, and Tomoe Mami's eyebrow twitches.

And suddenly Homura's foot catches against nothing, tugged backward.

_The same damn trick she did all those years ago._

"Well, looks like you've already lost," Tomoe Mami hums smugly.

"But, we can play this game."

* * *

Kaname Madoka keeps _distracting_ her, shooting arrows dangerously close to her, but not quite close enough to harm her. She's doing what she does best: hiding in the shadows, before letting her true, dangerous potential shine through.

Right when the fighting started, she was the first to disappear, and Homura only gave a brief, "Watch yourself!" to Kyoko before they are split up into two fights.

Kyoko will fight Miki Sayaka, and Homura will be fighting Tomoe Mami.

Kaname Madoka will be their support this fight, and Homura doesn't know if that makes anything better.

Shooting in her path, so Homura either has to commit and get singed with one of her arrows, risking it exploding in her face or on her body, or back off and avoid it.

Kyoko's having trouble with her, too. Anytime she gets too close to Miki Sayaka, from the quick glances Homura can spare, Kaname Madoka shoots out an arrow.

At least Kyoko can deflect it.

Only, she has to have both of her arms on her spear, both legs firmly planted on the floor, using her entire body weight to fling it off into the distance.

That leaves a dangerously large window of opportunity for Miki Sayaka to recover, taking time out of Homura's own battle to shoot a flurry of bullets in the general direction the arrows are coming from, then take some pot-shots at Miki Sayaka.

If she had more time, if she wasn't so distracted, maybe if she could use her time-stop powers, Homura could find a pattern or a way to exploit Kaname Madoka's commitment to not kill them.

Tomoe Mami's getting cocky, and she oversteps her boundary, before realizing her mistake when she gets a face-full of debris from one of Homura's pipe bombs.

—And she's close!—she just needs a clearer shot—and she briefly glances in Kyoko's direction, seeing her wrap up Miki Sayaka in some sort of chain and throwing her body against a lamp post with a loud resounding thud that Homura can feel in her spine—and just like that she has to back off again because she hears the signature whistle of an arrow heading towards her direction.

She's forced to lay off, landing awkwardly on one of her feet, before using a small burst of magic to send herself back again, using her shield to block her face when rubble shoots out everywhere.

Of course it happens to be an exploding arrow, too.

And when she lands, she snarls in Kaname Madaoka's direction, eyes flickering to any sign of pink.

It's that exact distraction that allows one of Tomoe Mami's ribbons too close to her neck, and Homura looks back too late—and she's suddenly suffocating, a ribbon on her leg pulling her upside down.

She briefly thinks about modesty, before not really caring at all. She's already been humiliated enough, clawing at the noose, she already can't breathe—not until Tomoe Mami wraps her entire body in ribbons, with an unnecessarily large locked bow in the center, before releasing the hold on her neck and turning her right-side up again.

She's tied up, suspended between two street lamps like a fly in a spider's web.

And a three against one isn't much of a fight at all, not when there's a chance Kyoko can be struck with arrows.

Soon Kyoko's tied up, too, thrown at Homura's feet.

Tomoe Mami tuts at them, a rifle against her shoulder, and Miki Sayaka and Kaname Madoka stand next to her, a little behind her.

She really can't stand that unsurely smug look on Miki Sayaka's face, but she _hates_ that look of pity and guilt on Kaname Madoka's, and she only allows herself the slightest, breifest glance at her face—and, yup, she's still as adorable and beautiful as ever, just a tiny bit taller with a face more mature-looking and softer curves—that's enough glancing.

But there's nothing—_nothing_—she _loathes_ more than that face of superiority and distrust Tomoe Mami gives her.

"You were doing so well," Tomoe Mami starts, sighing out dramatically. "And yet, here you are. Again."

She looks at each of them disapprovingly. 

"Here you _both_ are. Two bums. A college dropout and a street rat."

Neither of them say anything, but they give each other a glance.

Tomoe Mami tuts again. "Do either of you have anything to say?"

They give each other another glance, Kyoko giving a single-shoulder shrug, and Homura looks back at the three of them.

Well.

If Kyoko wasn't going to say anything.

"It wasn't my fault Momoe Nagisa turned into a witch."

No one says anything.

Tomoe Mami's mask cracks, Miki Sayaka growls and takes out one of those stupid swords, and she doesn't want to know what Kaname Madoka looks like.

She's looking at the barrel of a gun.

_"Don't-!"_ someone says.

Before Homura is shot in the head.

* * *

She wakes up with a headache. Dead center on her forehead, but she guesses that's the case when she took a magic bullet to the face at point-blank. She opens her eyes slowly and groans, closing her eyes and rolling over onto her side, curling into herself.

"So," Kyoko starts slowly, and Homura jumps at the sound, "we _ate_ _shit_ in that fight."

She sighs.

"And we have about thirty more minutes to leave the city before we're hunted for sport by Mami and her whores."

Homura laughs humorlessly at that, whining at the sharp pain in her frontal lobe. She wishes she learned how to block physical pain, like Miki Sayaka had at one point, but she guesses learning to block out the emotional pain works just as fine.

That fight went about as well as she was expecting.

Homura sits up, immediately nauseous, cradling her head. "How long was I out?"

Kyoko groans loudly, drawing Homura's attention, looking up at the ceiling and rolling her shoulder.

"That blue bitch got me good," she snarls mostly to herself, gingerly lowering her arm. "About twenty minutes. I had to use my spare grief seed to heal you."

Without thinking, Homura transforms and takes out a grief seed from her shield, tossing it at Kyoko, saying nothing as she catches it effortlessly.

She stares at Homura for a moment, but ultimately turns her ring into her soul gem and presses it against the grief seed.

She breathes a lot easier, Homura thinks. Looks a lot calmer, shoulders loose.

She's still wearing Homura's jacket. Her entire outfit is just Homura's clothes, actually, but she doesn't find it in her to care.

She even looks better in those jeans and band shirt than Homura.

"You didn't use that teleporting power when you were fighting Mami," Kyoko says after a moment, and Homura sighs, knowing her headache won't go away on its own, having to waste her magic again.

Closing her eyes and bringing up her soul gem to the middle of her forehead.

"She knows enough about my power to know that she just has to hold me down to stop my powers from working."

"What the fuck does that mean."

She reopens her eyes and shuffles onto her feet, walking towards the closet.

It's not weird to change in front of other girls, right? No, of course not.

This is something she should have grown out of, but she always used to change in the nurse's office. She slips off her shirt, being sure to keep her chest turned away from Kyoko.

"It's more like she gets influenced by the magic as well, against my favor."

Kyoko doesn't say anything.

Homura continues, taking another random long sleeve from its hanger.

Black.

Shocker.

"And you didn't use that duplication trick on her, either."

Homura turns just in time to see Kyoko roll her eyes, glowering.

"What?" Homura asks.

"Nothing," she mutters.

Homura looks at her. Kyoko eventually locks eyes with her, frowning.

"But if we're gonna be working together from now on, you _really_ need to stop speaking like Kyubey."

Homura laughs at that. It's a little fake, out of reflex and irony, and it makes Kyoko jump, but Homura shakes her head nonetheless, relishing the grin on her face.

"I've been told that before."

* * *

"You have a _motorcycle_?"

Homura looks over to where Kyoko froze by the doorway to the tiny garage, finally saying something after a few minutes of watching her check the gas, the brakes. Making sure nothing is out-of-place, even if she really doesn't have to worry about any of that, when she can just enhance and control her motorcycle with some magic.

She wipes off the dust bunnies and cobwebs with her hand, smearing it off on her shirt, walking over to take a thick leather jacket off from a nearby hook, slipping it on with a shrug and a shuffle of her shoulders.

"I have to get grief seeds somehow."

Kyoko sputters at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"The closest place to get them without trouble is Tokyo."

"You can take the _train_ there."

Homura pauses. "I guess. But, that's where I'm heading, for now."

And Kyoko sighs at her, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, Tokyo's a good start, I guess."

Homura thinks. They still have about ten more minutes, from when Homura finished packing a duffel bag with some clothes, cash, and some hygienic products, like toothpaste, some spare toothbrushes, deodorant, shampoo and conditioner, body wash. A hairbrush.

First aid kit, even if they don't really need it.

Pads. Tampons, that she bought one day, but only used a single stick of. Painkillers.

She wonders how Kyoko takes care of that stuff, before deciding she probably just steals what she needs. Maybe it's pointless to bring a duffel bag of shit if they’re both willing to steal stuff.

Kyoko packed her own bag, too. A spare backpack Homura had, but she stuffs it with all the food she can, saying to Homura, "You took care of the important stuff, so I'll cover the food."

So, she's sharing with Kyoko now.

"But, you know, aren't you leaving everything behind?" Kyoko leans against the wall and crosses her arms, and she looks odd. Like she wasn't expecting this outcome, but isn't surprised by it. "You're really just gonna up and leave like this?"

And Homura doesn't really know what to say. There's nothing she's leaving behind, other than her job.

"Too depressed and unmotivated to stay in college, and I couldn't pay for it either," she says finally, as casually as she can. Might as well, since that blonde idiot decided to say that shit.

"You don't strike me as someone who spends a lot of money."

And Homura looks at her. Stares at her, even when Kyoko coolly stares back. Before looking down at the only thing she ever saved money _for_, instead of relying on magic and stealing. A muddled reflection looks back at her.

Sleek, all black motorcycle, with a stylish streak of purple on each side. The only thing that made the trips to and from Tokyo easier. The conflicting feeling of wanting to go as fast as she can on the highway, but also take her time and enjoy the ride. Savor it.

"Well, I kept wasting money on stupid shit," she lies.

"I _hardly_ count this as 'stupid shit,'" Kyoko scoffs, kicking herself off the wall and standing next to Homura to look down at the bike. She only just notices how Kyoko's the slightest bit taller than her. "Do you have an extra helmet?"

Homura walks over to the closet and takes out two helmets, before she registers what Kyoko even said.

"You want to come with me?"

And Kyoko takes one of her helmets a little roughly, snarling.

"Oi," she says, jutting her chin up at Homura, eyes narrowed, "I said we're working together from now on, right?"

They stare at each other, and Homura's getting used to how they can both manage to hold each other's eyes.

"Right."

"And, I still owe you a favor for helping me anyway."

A nod from both of them, Homura settling on the bike and taking out her keys, her eyes briefly catching her apartment key, before she decides to ignore it and turn on her motorcycle.

"You know," Kyoko says after a testing, numbing rev, slowly lifting her leg and sitting behind Homura, trying to sit as far back on the seat as she can, before she ends up sliding against Homura's back, "that pink one was _super_ upset when you got shot."

"Was she?"

"Yeah. She was yelling at Mami and saying shit about how she shouldn't act so cold."

Homura doesn’t say anything.

"She even convinced her to let us live, but I doubt Mami-san could stomach it."

Kyoko nudges her with her chest against her upper back when Homura’s silent again.

"You know anything about that?"

"Same reason you probably know about Tomoe Mami in the first place."

Kyoko grumbles, putting on her helmet, muffled underneath, "That's a story for another time."

And Homura laughs out at that, even if it hurts to.

She slides the visor of her helmet down, a small resistance as it locks in place, then revs the engine, feels it hum under her palms, the familiar feelings overshadowed by the grip of Kyoko's arms tightening around her chest and stomach. A quick burst of magic through her heel, and the garage door opens.

"Then," Homura talks over her helmet, over her shoulder and the noise of her motorcycle, "another time, in another place."

**Author's Note:**

> Idk. I only really wrote this because I wanted to read some college-aged platonic KyouHomu. Might continue this, if there’s enough support for it. Share it, I guess! And please… leave a kudos or a review. 
> 
> Who knows!!


End file.
